


Nobody said it was easy; take me back to the start

by Kamikaz



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Break Up, F/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29868744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamikaz/pseuds/Kamikaz
Summary: It’s difficult.Being in love with someone whose life is so intertwined with their job.It makes things difficult.And Bellamy is tired of hurting.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Nobody said it was easy; take me back to the start

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been chilling in my folder for quite a while now, so I figured I might as well post it. Personally, I don't read a lot of angst - Ijustgetreallyupsetandsadmostofthetime BUT I really like writing it. It's very therapeutic and fun to make characters suffer- (I say, in a non-psychotic way) 
> 
> anyway 
> 
> Title and main inspiration for this fic comes from the song - The scientist by Coldplay
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> \- kaz

"I never said it was gonna be easy."

The harsh autumn air grips her hair, forcing it back from her face. Their meeting spot was anything but inconspicuous, considering it was on top of the tallest building in the city. 

Clarke's gaze is strictly stuck on the far horizon; on the city she swore an oath to protect.

She has already been here for an extensive period of time it seemed, by the moment he had arrived. 

The cold bites her ears, redness spreading like infection on her skin. Bellamy has always loved seeing her blush, especially if he was the reason behind the flush of her cheeks. How one of his smirks would make her face redden and eyes divert to the floor. But this was nothing like that.

No, this might very well be the beginning of the end. 

Wind rips in her dark petticoat. She is nothing but a stark silhouette against the grey covered sky with her turned, already aware that it is him approaching. Bellamy hopes it is based on his footsteps and not because her teammates have hacked the security cameras. She turns at the sound of his sneakers squeaking against the still wet roof from yesterdays down pour, a tight lipped smile on her face - but it is the sight of the small red blinking earpiece that catches his attention. 

He feels a new wave of hurt, all over again. 

He joins her at the edge off the roof, looking over the hazy city, the air brutally soft; almost as if it is about to rain. He looks at her and she quickly turns her eyes back towards the horizon and the buildings bellow. It seems ironic somehow. 

"you never said it was gonna be like _this._ " 

With her eyes cast down, Clarke bites her lip; remaining quiet. It spikes a surge of irritation in him, knowing she's holding back her words, choosing to stay quiet as if this is nothing worth fighting for. He's merely a dust peck in her universe. 

Only Clarke could make silence an offensive affair. 

She's either reluctantly agreeing or listening in on an entirely different conversation happening god-knows-where. He swallows a down the urge to rip the earpiece from her ear and throwing it off the rooftop. _She could probably dismantle him before he even got close enough to touch her face._ He contains a frustrated sigh, clenches his hands to fists, nails breaking the skin off his palms in his pockets. Everyday Clarke had to weave him into her daily schedule and apparently she couldn't even spare the time to have _this_ conversation private. He knows Raven and Monty, probably Wells too, are listening on the other side. Actively or not, they are still there. 

In the beginning he had barely noticed, hadn't much cared. She was working a lot, but they made it work. _He_ made it work. Cancelling plans just incase she would call, making his time more flexible cause he knew hers wasn't. But now, her teammates passive presence lingered like another man's bitter cologne in the air. 

More often than not, he wonders if it was only him falling, wanting, craving more.

"you knew what you were getting yourself into."

Bellamy has to bite his tongue to not laugh out-loud. It's frankly a blatant lie. She didn't tell him the truth about her occupation until he found her in the middle of the night, bleeding out on his couch four months into their relationship. 

But maybe that's what it takes; the only lifebuoy available to save their relationship. But in order to do that he has to admit he's in the wrong. 

He lets the potential words, that a younger version of him would spill, drift through his mind; _I shouldn't ask for more than what I'm given._

He glances down at her, she's still watching her boots.

The black ones she usually tears off as soon as he opens the door. 

The black ones she usually wears to work. 

His frown deepens until he hears the faint sound of a helicopter. His heart sinks in his chest. The familiar acid burn makes the world go blurry and he casts his gaze back to the horizon where he can make out the silhouette of a chopper growing in the distance. 

He's a pit stop. 

Again. 

"you know that's a lie." His voice is thick as he swallows the lump forming in his throat. He hears Clarke take a deep breath through her nose. He thinks his palms might be bleeding.

"you can't expect me to quit."

"I'm not," He says, knowing what has to come next and he can't look her in the eyes, cause then he might actually break. "but I can't be someone you call only when it's convenient for you," 

She sways in the corner of his eye, arms tightly wrapped around her body. 

"I'm here now, but how many times have you been there for me? I'm here, _now_ , _every time_ you call- but how many times can you be there for me?" He knows it's unfair. _He knows._ But the words has been nagging in his mind for the past few months. 

Every time he got a text saying she could meet up. 

Every time he had to reschedule his plans. 

Every time they would be interrupted by the god forsaken earpiece. 

Every time she called and cancelled only minutes before they were supposed to meet up. 

And every time she _forgot_ to call and cancel.

He had tried to brush it off, pretend it didn't affect him, until he found himself drowning in it. Sitting alone in a restaurant, waiting for her to show up only to leave an hour later, alone and embarrassed. Her row of excuses hours later on the phone that he'd had to take in good faith. _How many times can you forgive someone before it turns into a lie?_ He always came running for her, it felt like she glanced his way on a good day. 

"I can't stop." Clarke whispers and he dares her a glance. She would rather be caught dead than cry in front of him, and he's surprised at the sight of her red rimmed eyes, swimming with unfalling tears. 

"i'm not asking you to and even if you would-" _I would never make you choose._ He cuts himself off, biting his tongue. He could never make her choose.

And maybe, deepest down, it's only an act out of pure selfishness. To protect himself from hearing the painful truth.

Her job is more important to her.

She is more devoted to her job than him. 

And that is something he has come to accept. 

But he also knows he deserves more. 

_She would never pick him._

_But he deserves someone who would._

Irony laughs in his face, because it was _Clarke_ who taught him that.

To love himself.

That it was okay to put himself first if all there was left was pain and misery. To have enough self resect to let go and walk away.

He just never imagined that meant walking away from her. 

"I'm stepping out." 

Faint as a whisper the wind carries his voice. And with no self control left, he lets his tears fall. A release, shed of skin - moving on while standing incredibly still. 

Clarke stays closed-lipped, the wind from the chopper propellers trashing in her hair as it lands on the farther side of the rooftop. He convinces himself that the wetness in her eyes are from the cold winds and not because of him when he quietly leaves her, for the first time, behind. Feeling like a burnt out candle, but his footsteps lighter all the same.


End file.
